


Until There Comes A Day When We Sell Our Souls Away!

by In_Much_Stress



Series: Enders and Brines [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ANTI ANTI ANTI, Angst, Anyways, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description, M/M, Major Character Injury, No Beta We Die Like Endermen, Paranoia, Please be careful the last chapter contains a mild injury scene, Points of View, Song: The Riddle (The Scarlet Pimpernel), Suspicions, This feels like the Act 1 finale, WARNING TAG RANT, are my expectations too high for you?, it's tradition by now so, screeching our lungs out, should I lower them from hoping you'll be a decent human being to hoping you at least have a brain?, the feeling is so solemn I almost don't want to curse them mutts, this it the moment the series proves that it's not all about the ships, when will you finally let go of your gatekeeping and enjoy stuff?, when will you tire out that poor empty heart of yours?, yes it know quite ironic since it all started with the anti bitching about the shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Much_Stress/pseuds/In_Much_Stress
Summary: “We all are caught in the middleof one long treacherous riddleof who trusts who...maybe I'll trust you...but can you trust me?Wait and see!”(The Riddle, The Scarlet Pimpernel)KEEP IN MIND that this was made for us, shippers, and us only and you should not show this to either CC unless given clear and enthusiastic consent. Also, if you're gonna waste your time telling me to stop, I want you to think for a second and go find something to do with your life, because you ain't righteous and you sure ain't protecting anyone, Anti.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot
Series: Enders and Brines [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946374
Comments: 89
Kudos: 435





	1. Can I Run To You? Are You True To Me?

**Author's Note:**

> The Riddle from The Scarlet Pimpernel

General Wilbur Soot is no stranger to paranoia.

Many who came later thought L’Manburg had been created in peace, but they are incredibly wrong. The village had been separated in two sides: the people who wished to stay in the shadows of an unknown village, and the ones who wished to rise in between the many nations and kingdoms scattered around the world. A war issued, the first taste of blood their once peaceful home have ever tasted. The leader of the village had been vicious against the “rebels” and Wilbur and his peers had had no choice but to answer in kind.

He met Dream during that war.

Dream, George and Sapnap had been travelling together, three nomads with tales to tell and exceptional fighting skills. They had offered their help in exchange for a safe nation to call home, two of the three clearly longing for a place to settle down and the one free spirit too loyal to be bothered with the idea of staying in one place.

The three had been what the Revolution needed.

George is smart and a great swordsman, the ability with the sword and shield and the aptitude to keep order even in the chaos are great assets for large scale battles that require strategy. Sapnap lacks the elegance with the sword, but he makes it up with pure strength and enthusiasm, a beacon of hope and inspiration in the darkest times, and his hunting skills had fed them multiple times when the rations had been scarce.

And Dream, Dream is  _ breathtaking _ to watch, if not a bit worrying. It’s clear to anyone who has ever been interested in fighting that Dream is a man  _ made  _ to fight, and even more, he’s made to fight for his life. Anything in his skilled hands can become a deadly tool. But he also has insane skills that let clear he’s been surviving the wide world for years. Very few can beat him and very little can perpetually stop him. He knows where to look, he knows what to look for, there is nothing he can’t find a way through or around.

Wilbur fell in love with his charming yet diligent nature, at first.

It hadn’t taken much for his heart to fall for the rest of the man.

“Wilbur?”

“Tommy.” Wilbur greets, staring down at the mask in his hands. The smile drawn on it looks bitter, and the ceramic feels heavy.

“Will… Will you be ok?”  _ Will you be ok if I leave you alone? _

The General can tell what the younger is thinking, and he doesn’t blame him one bit, not when the young blond has bought his lies so promptly.

To Tommy and the others, Dream is  _ dead. _

Only Wilbur knows what truly happened in that clearing weeks ago. The shared kisses, the confessions, the desperation. His lips still tingle every time he remembers the warm breaths of his beloved, and his hands sometimes clench involuntarily at the memory of holding a firm body to his. 

The mask trembles in his hands.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Tommy throws him another worried look, looking like he wanted to say something, but seems to think better and just offers the brunet a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving the house all together.

The story Wilbur has told Tommy and the others is that he found Dream’s mask and what once could have been his coat, covered in blood that could only be Dream’s. It wasn’t, it was Wilbur’s own blood that coated the white ceramic. He had cut his arm with his sword and painted the mask with crimson. His excuse for not bringing the coat was simple: since Dream’s clothing was unimportant, once the mask by itself was telling, and the fabric had been destroyed almost to the point of no recognition, he just buried it where he found the mask.

Wilbur did not miss the mistrustful glint in President Jschlatt’s eyes when he offered the man his report, nor did he miss Fundy’s nervous twitching, or Tubbo’s darting eyes, or Sapnap’s contemplative silence, or George’s lack of a reaction. The only one who reacted as expected was Tommy, the boy immediately going in denial, arguing between passionate cursing.

The General lied to them all, however.

The General is still lying to them all.

The General is no stranger to the paranoia, but the paranoia of war is different from the feeling creeping up his back, freezing his blood vein by vein.

In war, you worry about how the enemy will come for you.

Right now, he worries about  _ who the enemy might be. _

He feels so incredibly alone, and so incredibly  _ surrounded. _

Wilbur doesn’t know who to trust, he can’t afford to step out of the line he has drawn. It would be putting everyone in risk, and by  _ everyone,  _ he does mean  _ everyone.  _ The entire nation might be in danger if it loses its General to the hands of the tyrant they call president. There is too much to lose and very little to gain. And perhaps giving Dream up for the sake of the nation is the answer, but it is not an option he’ll ever dare entertain.

General Soot is still human.

He is still selfish.

He will find a way to get the best ending to everyone, the ending where he and Dream can live forever together in the nation they created, surrounded by their friends and family, with the corrupt President six feet under.

Even if he has to do it alone.

Paranoia has yet to fail him, after all.


	2. I'll Do Unto You As You Do To Me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's short. Yes, it's deliberate.

President Jschlatt remembers well the feeling of humiliation and fear, and there is nothing that brings him more pleasure than seeing it in someone else’s eyes.

The Overworld is disgustingly perfect. Not hellishly hot like the Nether, not insufferably cold like the End. Life has always a chance to grow and flourish, even the life that naturally had to face obstacles. Not everything needs to be a battle, not everything needs to be solved with a stab to the back. Everything here is in abundance and the man hates it.

He hates that the nasty humans get to live in this paradise while he had to watch his own mother suffer and die in that damned void for the chance of getting her son out of that pitiful dimension.

Every time he looks at the mirror, when the effect of that sickening potion fades away, he sees her eyes in his, more purple than his venomous red eyes, and infinitely more virtuous. Sometimes he wonders how she would feel if she knew what her darling child was doing in the Overworld. His mother was not one for revenge, and she had loved the Overworld, the land of his father, just as fervently as she had loved him until her last breath.

Well, no matter. She’s not here to tell him her feelings, and Jschlatt has too much to do. Runaways to find, Generals to torment, people to win over, revenge to rage, no time for contemplating the ghosts of the past.

Busy, busy, busy is the life of a President.


	3. And We Slowly Learn Someone Has To Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is waaaaaaay too convoluted

Tubbo is used to being underestimated.

Many people take a look at the young boy and write him off as a clueless child, someone to be sheltered and kept away from the battlefield.

If only they knew.

Tubbo is no stranger to war and all sides of it. He came to L'Manburg to run from a crumbling village, the only survivor of a battle with a great beast, a beast he still sees in his nightmares. A beast that now smiles with trained ease at him, slitted eyes piercing through his very being. A beast he has no choice but to smile back. A beast that has taken his home yet again, but this time with pretty words instead of poisonous fire balls.

Tubbo is used to being underestimated, and he’s better off like that.

Tubbo is no fool.

Tubbo knows the only hope L’Manburg has resides in the man now being hunted for a crime he did not commit. He knows that Dream is safer away from the reach of the beast, for he knows what will happen once it puts its claws on him.

He had heard the stories, and he wants no repeat of the past.

So Tubbo silently smiles to the beast, and watches as the General lies to its face.

He hopes the General will find it in his heart to forgive him for the necessary evil deeds he had to commit.


	4. Oh, Ev'ry Judas Once Loved A Jesus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone read the chapter titles?

“George, what the fuck is happening?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s not the first time Sapnap asks George that, and it probably won’t be the last, no matter how many times the older man has affirmed knowing as much as him.

They both don’t know what to think. Weeks ago, life was good. They finally had a home to call theirs, finally able to let go of their endless wandering, and were surrounded by people they love. Even Dream, the most free spirited of them, seemed happy, if the always present smile and the obvious affections for a certain General were anything to go by. They had finally let go of the uncertainty of the nomad lifestyle, for the first time in their lives feeling completely safe to let go and just enjoy the days as they came.

Now their life sounds like a complicated tale invented by a looney storyteller.

“Dream can’t be dead. That, at least, I know.”

“Which means Wilbur was lying… Why, though?”

“To save him?”

“Yes, but  _ why,  _ Sapnap? Why would he save a criminal?”

“... We don’t even know if Dream was the one to do it.”

And isn’t that the truth.

The thing about Dream is that he is quite the asshole, but he is not heartless. There is a very big chance he didn’t do it, and if he  _ did _ do it, he would have a very good reason for it. And, so, the duo can’t help but be filled with doubt.

“We should go after Dream.”

“If Jschlatt puts his hands on him—”

“He won’t.” Sapnap’s dark eyes glint orange, and George can almost see the flames of the Nether thrashing inside his pupils. It lasts for only a second, but it’s enough to burn away the older man’s doubts.

“Yeah- yeah, we need to…” He sighs, hand gently caressing the wall of their living room, the wall the three of them had built together during the warm summer days.

Going after Dream could mean turning their backs on everything they have been in love with since the beginning of their travels, since they finally got out of their hellish dimension and explored the joys of the Overworld. But, on another hand, Dream is the one who saved them, who helped them, who protected them, who taught them. Dream is the reason they are here in the first place, and to betray him like this would be the greatest offence.

“We need to at least hear his side of the story.” He decides, his own eyes shining crimson behind his glasses.

In the end, they are going to chase dreams again. The irony.


	5. But Finally, Treason Will Seize Us!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely not planned, but here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

At first, Fundy had hated Jschlatt.

He can see the malicious glint in his eyes, and the nefarious curl of his way too pointy smile. He can feel every instinct he has yell at him to run away every time the President’s attention is on him, ha can tell that under the nice suit and groomed goatee is a predator, a beast he can’t even begin to dream of winning against.

But then the beast gently pats his shoulder with pride.

But then the man laughs heartily at his jokes.

But then the President kindly praises his more animalistic traits.

But then Jschlatt shows that under that rage and betrayal is a good friend.

And the fox hybrid gets drunk in the feeling of acceptance, the joy of sharing all of himself with someone who appreciates him, who supports him, who  _ understands  _ him more than even his unofficial adopted brother, the oh so great General Wilbur, will ever be able to.

And perhaps, Fundy figures, perhaps there is a chance for him to have his deserved happy ending in a world where hybrids like him can live free, without the fear of the hunt and without the shackles of deceptions.

It cannot be betrayal if you’re not loyal to them anymore.


	6. And Only Fools Follow Golden Rules!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna be awesome, I'm so excited

Tommy can tell there is something going on.

It’s in the way Wilbur keeps quiet and holds the white mask with shaky hands when he's alone.

It’s in the way Tubbo twitches a little bit every time the President or Dream are mentioned.

It's in the way SapNap's eyes sometimes burn with hellfire that could pass up as determination.

It's in the way George nervously pushes his glasses up his nose, as if trying to make the dark lens hide his eyes more.

It's in the way Fundy smiles at President Jschlatt, always near the man as if he can't help but gravitate towards him.

It's in the way the President's eyes sometimes flash with something just shy of being beyond the boy's understanding.

It's in the creeping feeling of dread that Tommy can feel crawling up his spine, like his subconscious knows of something his conscious mind can't see… or simply refuses to. Like the knowledge is so terrifying, so above him and his little life that his mind cannot look at it directly in the eye. But he can tell, Tommy is in no way an idiot. He can tell there is something going on in the great land of L'Manburg.

From the crime that was in no way committed by Dream to the ominous glint in Jschlatt's eyes.

But, for now, Tommy will stay by his General's side, even if his lips are now coated with lies.

After all, General Soot wouldn't lie to his right hand man without a good reason, yes?


	7. Can I Trust You? Should You Trust Me, Too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains some descriptions that might make more squeamish people uncomfortable.

Now, Technoblade is not one for crying.

In his twenty something years of life, he has barely ever cried. Not when he found out he had to share a mind with some annoying entity, not when he lost his parents, not when he figured out who killed his parents, not when he left the Nether, not when he accepted his isolation as a necessary evil once he stepped in the Overworld.

But, somehow, he’s crying as he holds Sonho’s body to his chest.

The fact is, Herobrine is a  _ fucking asshole. _ He’s murderous and he’s dangerous, and usually Techno doesn’t care because the entity doesn’t get to “play” as much as he wants, and the people who tend to aggravate the asshole are usually assholes themselves who deserve a good whacking, but this is the first time he attacks an innocent.

It had been terrifying.

As the original owner of the body, Technoblade has a much easier time taking and keeping control, however this time around he simply  _ could not. _ He had been locked inside his own mind, forced to watch from the backseat as the maniac almost cut the blonde in half. He could feel the sword in his hands, he could feel the blade cutting through flesh, he could feel the warmth of the blood. But he couldn’t stop it from happening. No matter how much he yelled and trashed against the mental bounds, he just couldn’t.

It took him all he had to finally gain his body back, and just in time too.

Herobrine had been about to end Sonho’s life.

Technoblade is scared.

Even now, as he runs to the inn with the passed out man in his arms, the injuries that made him stop by that village sending wave after wave of pain through his body, he can feel the other, the  _ thing _ lurking in his head.

He can practically taste his hunger and his wrath.

And he’s terrified of what might happen if he loses control even for a second.

_ Stop freaking out, Techno,  _ he screams at himself as he bursts through the front door of the Inn, not bothering to answer to the surprised exclamations from the few people still awake and around,  _ it can wait until this guy isn’t literally dying in your arms. _

**_Or you can let go and watch the show._ **

_ Shut up. _

**_You don’t need to get involved, piggy, just let the Ender die and we’ll continue our happy tale._ **

“Shut up!” Techno yells, almost loud enough to be heard over the sound of the door of his room closing shut after he kicked it.

Sonho’s body is freezing and wet, soaking the sheets of Techno’s unused bed quickly, his breathing getting weaker by the second. With shaky hands, Techno rips apart what was left of the blonde’s green shirt, taking a sharp breath when the bloodied torso is exposed. He forces himself to calm down again, gulping down a few breaths, before grabbing the first clean fabric he could find, one of the two shirts he brings with him during his travels just in case, to clean around the cut, so he could at least see the damage.

Thankfully, the cut is much shallower than he first thought.

And it seems to very slowly be closing on its own…?

Techno can hear Herobrine scoff inside his mind, but he pays that bastard no mind as he gently presses the shirt on the cut to stop the bleeding. The possibilities of his patient having healing magic within him can be discussed later. Right now, the pinkett is more focused on trying to remember what humans do in situations like these.

“Of all the times to not have a potion…” He mumbles to himself.

A knock on the door snaps him out of his thoughts. He yells a “come in”, watching as the door opens to show the owner of the Inn and the village doctor rushing their way through. The doctor is quick to take the lead, which Techno is thankful for because even though half of him is human, he has no idea how humans work sometimes. The village doctor is what one would expect from the doctor of a small and peaceful village: short and sweet, the type of old man that can disarm even a raging beast with a smile and could get anyone to trust him with a wink. So when he starts barking orders, Technoblade feels like panicking for that _must_ mean things are very much _not_ _okay,_ right?

Well, no time to dwell. The pinkett rushes to get the stuff the doctor needs with the owner of the Inn, both of them impressively in sync.

The owner, though, excuses himself when the doctor grabs the now sterilized needle and thread, not having the stomach for what’s about to happen. Techno himself feels a little weak on the knees, sitting heavily on a nearby chair where his bag had been resting. The truth of what just happened, the cold brought by the freezing rain and the injuries still healing all hit him at once, and he feels his head spin.

The privileged view of the doctor’s trained hands stitching Sonho back together does nothing to help his vertigo.

The blonde man gasps as the needle pierces his skin, eyes opening impossibly wide. The doctor does his best to soothe him so he can work, and for a little bit it works, Sonho relaxes against the sheets with a long exhale, muscles trembling only slightly as the needle goes in and out his flesh, grunts and whimpers escaping his lips.

But then his eyes glaze over in a feverish delirium.

Techno isn’t sure when he got up, but next thing he knows he’s kneeling on the bed above Sonho’s head, holding his upper body in place as the doctor sits on the blonde’s legs to prevent them from moving too much. The blonde speaks in garbled gibberish, head still trashin like he’s trying to escape from some terrifying monster, green eyes glistening with tears. The fever is probably making him see things, and none of them seem to be good.

The minutes go by slowly, the storm still raging outside like an omen.

Just as the doctor finishes his work, Sonho finally passes out, probably from exhaustion, and Technoblade panics yet again, though it’s short lived as the doctor is quick to confirm that the man is just sleeping.

“It’d be better to keep him dry,” the doctor tells him, concern written all over his face while he finishes bandaging the stiches, “And warm.”

“Go ask the owner to open Sonho’s room and light the fireplace, I’ll try to get him in some dry clothes.” Techno’s voice sounds even raspier than usual, almost like a croak.

The doctor rapidly excuses himself, the door closing behind him prompting the pinkett into action.

Maybe in a different situation, Techno would make a playful comment about how gentle he is being even with his big hands being as rough as the leather of his belt, but right now his tongue feels too heavy for a quip, perhaps even heavier than his heart. He makes sure to move Sonho as little as possible, taking off his soaked pants and changing them for a pair of his own dry ones. Sonho might be tall, but he’s still a few inches shorter than Techno, and more slim, so the pants are a little baggy. Since the bed is now soaked, he takes off his wet shirt, throws on his last spare, and gently picks up the battered body, nestling the man on his arms. Technoblade then sits back on the chair, sitting the man on his lap. He needs to do something about the soaking blonde hair. He’s never been happier to have remembered to grab a towel as he picks it from his bag and sets on drying the other’s hair. It’s hard to do so with only one hand, but he doesn’t want to risk having Sonho slip from his lap and hurt himself more. Thankfully, the doctor returns soon enough, and he doesn’t need to worry about putting the stitches under much more stress.

With large steps, as large as his legs can do without disturbing the sleeping blonde in his arms, he leaves his room. Sonho’s room is at the opposite end of the hallway, but luckily there is nothing to get in his way and in no time he’s entering the warm room and depositing Sonho’s body in the dry bed. He then covers Sonho with all the sheets he can find and puts one of the towels the owner offered under his head so the pillow won’t get as wet. Only when he’s sure the other will be fine that he allows himself to relax, deflating with one long sigh and wobbling a little bit where he stood near the bed. A firm hand takes hold of his elbow and he doesn’t have the mind to feel awkward about the sudden touch.

“You should dry yourself too and maybe eat something. A warm bath is also recommended.” The doctor squeezes his elbow a little bit before letting go, and Techno feels like losing his standing again, but he holds himself straight.

“Thanks, doc. I’ll do just that.”

He can always come back later, when his eyes aren’t tearing up again.

* * *

When Dream opens his eyes, the first thing he expects to see is not the ceiling of his room in the Inn.

The pain in his abdomen, though, it’s expected.

Doesn’t mean he won’t absolutely react to it.

“Ow!” Dream tries to sit as a reflex to the pain running through his body, regretting it right after as his torso practically makes him see stars and sends him back to the sheets, punching the air out of his lungs. “Oof!”

“Well, that was graceful.”

Dream’s eyes widen when the monotone and deep voice reaches his ears, and he tries to sit up again only to get stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. It gently pushes him back to the bed, and he lets it. Once his head is back on the pillow, he follows the arm holding him down, finding a white shirt, pink hair, pale skin, thin lips, and, finally, crimson eyes.

_ Technoblade. _

The memories of last night come rushing back and his first instinct is to flinch away, but the crimson eyes filled with worry and guilt stop him. The one looking at him is Technoblade, not that terrible creature who almost killed him. Technoblade who saved him, who stayed with him, who cared for him.

He can’t help the relief running through his veins, nor the smile, nor the hand he raises to touch the other man’s face. Technoblade’s guilt ridden eyes take on a shade of surprised curiosity, but he doesn’t try to shy away from Dream’s feathery touch. Dream’s hand softly caresses the handsome face of the pink haired man, happy to see crimson eyes in the place of the void white ones.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

Technoblade snorts. Dream dares to say the smile on the man’s thin lips is  _ shy. _

“And that answers the question: is Sonho delirious?”

“Dream. My real name is Dream and I’m not delirious.” He closes his eyes tightly as a particularly deep breath sends another wave of pain coursing through him, almost leaving him breathless. “Just in pain.”

“Those are not exclusive. And what sort of name is  _ Dream?” _

“That’s hilarious coming from someone called  _ Technoblade.” _

Technoblade opens his mouth to reply, but before he can there’s a knock on the door followed by the village doctor’s voice. The pinkett retreats from the touches all together, as if he just got shocked by lightning, and quickly makes his way to answer the door. Dream sighs as he raises a hand in greeting. The doctor efficiently checks on his injuries, remarking on Dream’s surprisingly fast healing—reminding him of the many times George had to take care of his injuries and remarked on the same thing, and  _ oh here comes another heartbreak—,  _ before scolding him on leaving his house at night in the middle of a storm. The blonde can’t do much but smile, the doctor’s words were warm despite their seriousness, and there was some relief in there.

“I’m sorry, doc. I thought I heard someone and had to investigate. Never thought a zombie would get the best of me like that.” He can feel eyes burning his flesh, no doubt of a rich crimson, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson.”

“You better! You won’t always have mr. Blade to save you, young man.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am very grateful to mr. Blade for saving me.”

The doctor spends a few more minutes with them before he excuses himself out of the room, leaving behind a strict set of instructions for Dream. The two men stay there in silence, and Dream is glad the chair Technoblade is sitting can be seen from where he’s laying by only turning his head as he stares at the pinkett. Differently from before, the man is much more disheveled than before, pink hair messy, bags under his eyes, wrinkled clothes, hunched shoulders. Even the way he sits holds none of the poise from before, he’s thrown on the chair like an old ragdoll.

Still, Technoblade is so beautiful.

“Why did you lie?” Said pinkett is the one to break the silence.

“About what?”

“About what attacked you?”

“I don’t even know what attacked me, what do you want me to tell him?”

“It was me. I attacked you.”

“No, you didn’t.” Dream is not sure what Technoblade is trying to do by taking the blame, but he will not allow it. He knows very well that it hadn’t been the man who obviously sat during the entire night, and, by the looks of it, half of a day, in his room to make sure he was alright. “Maybe it was your body, but whatever was inside it that night wasn’t you.”

Technoblade stares at him with an indescribable look in his eyes, and Dream stares right back. He can feel sleepiness crawling up on him, but he fights it, wanting to stay awake for longer, to stay in the company of this interesting man for longer. They spend a few more moments like this before Technoblade sighs a sigh Dream is very familiar with. The exasperated sigh of a defeated man. It brings a victorious smile to his face.

“Don’t sleep yet, I’ll grab something for you to eat.”

With that, Technoblade gets up and leaves the room, allowing Dream to lose himself in daydreams of brown hair and shiny medals. Wilbur and Technoblade would either be great friends or quite the rivals, but they certainly would bond over being exasperated at the blonde’s shenanigans. George too, though the brunet would be a little put off by the pinkett’s deadpan nature. SapNap, on another hand, would find it  _ hilarious,  _ so would Tommy and Tubbo. Fundy might get annoyed, though.

Man, he misses L’Manburg.


End file.
